Sketchism

Woke up this morning with an aching body. I figured it was from only getting 7 hours of rest instead of my usual 8. Have some breakfast, head to bank, head to work. I get to work and I’m in desperate need of water. My body is still aching and I’m feeling pretty weak. I call Mom, she tells me to take some Aspirin, so I pop two Aleve into my mouth and order lunch. Lunch arrives 30 minutes later, and I am starving for some fuel in my system. The Pad Thai is delicious for 5 minutes, then I realize there’s a full feeling in my gut. I’m a bit nauseaus. Time to lay down a bit. I get on the office couch, catch up on my school reading for a bit and I realize I’m feeling better. Something is definitely in my system though.

I head out to school at the usual strike of 2 o’clock. Class begins, all is well. We discuss essay structure and the blues. We read a poem that is the sad retelling of a man too afraid to approach a woman he thinks he might love. He is insecure, he is weak, he is afraid. And so am I. My immune system is shutting down. Class is dismissed and I ride my board to the next building, where my graphics class awaits my two logo presentations. I’m desperately exhausted by this point, and I tell the teacher I’m not feeling too well.

“If you want, you can leave your work and go home,” she advises.
“I think I’ll stick around for the critique and then I’ll go,” I respond.
The critique is great, the students love my pieces, I get praised and then I’m too sick to care anymore. I leave the class, get into my car and begin my drive home. Uh oh, it’s 5 o’clock. Traffic is going to be terrible.

It was.

I didn’t have the energy to make it on my own, so I pleaded with God to give me the strength, despite my weakness. I talk to Him in the car, asking for good vision and wise maneuvering. Each breath feels as if it is my last. I breath through my nose, then through my mouth. My arms and hands have lost all feeling, yet my Father guides me. I ask Him to get me home safe, please Father, so I can be with my family and begin treatment. Each pause of the cars ahead of me confirm it will continue to be a struggle.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

I finally made it home, praising God for guiding me along the way. The chills kick in, my temperature rises, and I am confined to my bed. That is, until I have to get up to throw up my Pad Thai from only a few hours before. The fever is still inside me, tormenting my body, attacking my immune soldiers, causing tears to drip down my cheeks as I lay in my dark box with a towel on my forehead. I pray tomorrow morning I will be well. Thursdays are my favourites, ya know.